


BabyBi

by red_crate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Coming Out, Feel-good, Feminization, Gen, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Nice Peter, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: The way Stiles bites at his bottom lip, the quiet resignation Peter remembers Stiles exuding when he mentioned coming out to his father—these things make Peter want to give Stiles everything and anything he might want, no matter how frivolous.





	BabyBi

**Author's Note:**

> First, this was inspired and enabled by Twisted_Mind. 
> 
> Secondly, this fic is centered around the "not dressed like that, you aren't" comment the sheriff said to Stiles about being gay in season two. Of course, this is all divergent. And it isn't set during any specific time period. 
> 
> It is not specifically stated, and is only loosely implied in the fic, but Stiles likes female-coded items. If you want to read into it as him also being genderfluid, go for it! I tagged "genderfluid" because I wasn't sure how else to tag that (and I didn't want to accidentally upset anyone). If you have a suggestion, please let me know. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

The wrist in his hand is warm. Peter rubs his thumb over the bone there, staring down at the ladder of colored lines marking the flesh of Stiles’ forearm. Pinks, reds, plums, and neutrals. Some shimmery, some matte. He can smell the low-key discomfort rolling off Stiles, but he can also smell the excitement.

“I like the dark ones, but I don't think I would want to wear them.” Stiles mutters, still not taking his wrist back from where Peter has taken it. Both of them are examining the color choices.

Peter likes all of the them, except the very dark ones. “So we won't get them. Take the ones you want.”

At this, Stiles finally works his hand free. He shuffles his feet, and smells embarrassed again. “You don't...I don't need any of this.”

The way Stiles bites at his bottom lip, the quiet resignation Peter remembers Stiles exuding when he mentioned coming out to his father—these things make Peter want to give Stiles everything and anything he might want, no matter how frivolous. He isn't going to push that far though, not right now.

Instead, Peter takes the handful of lipsticks Stiles has been subconsciously holding onto. He puts them in the small plastic shopping basket he picked up at the store entrance.

“I thought you wanted to convince your father to take you seriously? He can't ignore _this_.”

Stiles’ cheeks pink up, and he sighs. “I guess…”

Peter remembers how anxious Stiles had been when he announced his bisexuality in front of the pack. He'd been antsy and anxious the whole night, apparently working up to the reveal by the time the evening was coming to a close. Scott had been the first to jump up and hug him, tell him he loved Stiles. Then the others had piled on. It had been very sweet. But Peter had held back, watching and fixating on the bitter note in Stiles’ voice when he answered someone's question about how his father responded.

_“He doesn't think I know what I'm talking about, because I don't_ look _like a queer person.”_

Now, he and Stiles are standing in a makeup store, looking at lipsticks after having shopped for tight skinny jeans and form-fitting shirts that showcased Stiles’ broad shoulders and tapered waist. The sheriff is an idiot for stereotyping his own son, but Peter can't deny he is enjoying dressing Stiles up to convince his father to take him seriously. He's probably enjoying it more than he has a right to do. He can't wait to see the final product.

“Is there anything else, you're interested in?”

Peter scans the display in front of him, and finds the gloss he'd seen earlier. He drops it in the basket too. It's a subtle enough of a tint that he hopes Stiles will wear it often.

“I don't know. This stuff is cool, but…” Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “I don't think I'm ready for more?”

“Hmm. Yes, I don't really imagine you being a full face of makeup kind of guy. But, you have these now. If the mood strikes, you can experiment.” Peter leads Stiles to the register and swipes his card to pay before Stiles can put up a token protest.

As they walk past more shops, Stiles asks, “why are you doing this? Why take me shopping, pay for any of this?”

“Because you're pack, and you're having trouble. I want you to be comfortable, around us, and everyone else.” Peter looks over at Stiles.

Swinging his bags in front of him, Stiles shrugs. “I like my baggy clothes and layers. But...I like this too. I like looking nice, attractive. If I ever want to get an actual girlfriend or boyfriend, I'm gonna have to stop looking like such a slob.”

Peter gives into his urge, and pulls Stiles against his side. He scents his temple lightly, nosing the soft hair there. Having Stiles lean into the embrace is gratifying.

“You look good, no matter what you're wearing.”

He smirks when Stiles’ face heats up and he catches a hint of arousal wafting up from Stiles.

“Come on. We're getting manicures. You can get them to paint your nails, if you like.” He guides Stiles into a salon. “Neat and trim nails are a must, no matter who you're sleeping with.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles whispers to himself, suitably embarrassed and turned on, no doubt imagining _why_ nailcare is important.

Peter grins.

At the next pack bonding night, Stiles shows up in his usual jeans, not the skin-tight ones Peter bought him. The red zip-up hoodie he's wearing is open over a soft grey shirt that rides up his stomach just a bit when he slouches on the couch next to Peter. He remembers when Stiles tried that one on. The hint of treasure trail disappearing into his jeans draws Peter's attention for longer than appropriate.

Stiles snaps his fingers in his face, and Peter grabs his hand. The dark purple polish on Stiles’ nails is starting to chip.

“Hey, eyes up here, creeperwolf.” Stiles is smiling a little though, and he smells pleased. He doesn't do anything to straighten his shirt.

His lips shine with the gloss Peter picked out for him. With as often as Stiles licks and bites his lips, the gloss will be gone in no time. But Peter appreciates the look, no matter how brief it will last.

Peter doesn't even pretend to apologise for leering. Instead, he asks, “how did it go with your father?”

Stiles wiggles his hand free. “Okay. He finally stopped arguing with me about it. He apologized.”

“Good.” He's glad the sheriff got his shit together, finally. “You don't have to look a certain way to prove yourself. But I'm glad I was able to help,” Peter grins, teasing, “my babybi.”

Stiles groans and hides his face in Peter's shoulder. The scent of happiness rolling off him makes Peter want to pin him to the couch and nuzzle his stomach. He doesn't do that, but it's a close thing.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [tumblr](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


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